


To Be Satisfied

by dreamlittleyo



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canon Era, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Power Imbalance, Rank Disparity, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 07:46:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14444643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: Hamilton will never disobey a direct order from his general.





	To Be Satisfied

In moments like this Hamilton could almost wonder—if he had the immediate mental capacity to do so—where his general hides this cruel streak the rest of the time.

Even in the heat of battle Washington is steady, efficient, detached. He isn't kind. One can't win a war by being kind. But he's never one to linger over a victory.

Yet here, in these intimate moments that are just the two of them, he clearly delights in having Hamilton at his mercy. There is strategy in the way he works Alexander to the keenest edge only to _stop_. To hold back and not allow the satisfaction just out of reach.

Sometimes he does this with nothing more than words. "Not yet, Alexander." The gentle tone is an illusion; the words are an order just the same.

Hamilton will never disobey a direct order from his general.

But _fuck_ , he aches to finish it. He's so close his entire soul burns, his body exhausted, his pulse rushing so fast and loud he can barely hear past his own heartbeat. He feels Washington's eyes on him, attention rapt as maddening fingers trace the sweat-slick skin of Alexander's chest.

"Good boy." Washington's graveled sincerity leaves him shivering with pleasure.

"Please," he gasps, clinging to impossibly strong arms. His eyes are open, but the world is blurry through exhausted tears. Washington has been touching him for what feels like hours—has worked him to the edge a dozen times—and has not once allowed him to come.

"Not yet," Washington murmurs, more gently than his commanding admonishment of a moment ago. The words are not an imperative this time, but a softer urging toward patience.

Even at the best of times, Alexander Hamilton is not a patient man.

" _Please_." Humiliating, how easy it is for Washington to make him beg. "Sir, please— God, please fuck me." He is nearly sobbing with the words. Shaking with need, never mind that with Washington's cock inside him he won't be able to hold back.

"Will you promise me…" Pure wickedness glints in Washington's eyes. " _Can_ you promise not to come until I give you permission?"

" _Fuck_." Hamilton's head falls back, hitting the pillow with a dull thump.

He startles at the shifting of weight on top of him, the press of Washington's mouth a moment later claiming a sudden and plundering kiss. He opens readily despite the instant of surprise. He welcomes the greedy thrust of his general's tongue, a teasing pantomime of what Hamilton really wants.

The kiss ends too soon—Washington is not as unaffected as he pretends—and both of them draw hurried breaths, panting with mutual need.

"That is my condition, Alexander. Your promise."

God, it's a cruel thing to demand. A promise is sacred. Even in a moment like this, a promise is more than just the words spoken aloud. If Hamilton _promises_ , he will have to mean it; and if he fails to keep his word, Washington will be disappointed.

But if he refuses this demand, however unreasonable, he will not get what he wants tonight.

Washington won't leave him unsatisfied—he will grant Alexander the orgasm so long withheld. But a more specific craving drives Hamilton, something he's wanted since long before the other aides retired for the evening.

Not just Washington's cock inside him—though the physical sensations alone would be enough to bring him back to this bed every night—but a more complicated intimacy. The knowledge that Hamilton isn't the only one coming apart. The surety that Washington desires this just as powerfully as he does. That they are in this together, equal parts ruin and hunger.

Hamilton draws a shaky breath. "I promise."

Washington kisses him again, then moves. Guides Hamilton onto his stomach. Settles along his back, pinning him warmly.

The head of Washington's cock is a blunt presence, nudging at his entrance now. Hamilton is already slick and open, already exhausted and sensitized from the endless stroking of long fingers inside him. He buries his face against his arm as the unyielding length fucks in.

His keen of pleasure-almost-pain is muffled in the crook of his elbow, and it's all he can do to stay away from the precipice. He resists the wave of pleasure cresting inside him as Washington's hips roll forward—as Washington fills him completely—as Washington withdraws and ruts forward once more. Quickly finding a brutal rhythm that jostles Hamilton hard beneath him.

Alexander savors every sensation, despite the torment of _too much_. From the ruthless force of Washington's thrusts to the heavy panting heat of his general's breath on his throat. The bruising strength in those godly hands. The careless brush of lips beneath his jaw. The burning in Hamilton's lungs as he struggles to draw a proper breath without toppling over the edge of release.

He promised, damn it. He will not let his general down.

It's obvious when Washington is close. So many times they have done this. Hamilton recognizes the hitch of breath, the stutter in the steady rhythm between them, the tightening of the grip on his flank.

" _Sir_." He untucks his face from the bend of his arm. "Sir, please can I—"

" _No_ ," Washington snarls. And oh, the sound of him. Wild and frantic and rough with pleasure. Hamilton sobs and clutches at the sheets.

But he doesn't come. He promised.

Washington speeds his pace, and Hamilton rolls his hips to meet every brutal thrust. Encouraging, clenching tighter around Washington's cock each time he feels the length seated completely inside him, urging his general nearer and nearer the rising edge. Washington slips an arm around Hamilton's waist and uses the leverage to hold him still for the increasingly desperate rhythm.

Washington's breath turns shallow and erratic, and he reaches his other hand forward to curl around Hamilton's wrist. Pinning him even more securely.

There is so much strength in Washington's every movement, even in this final dissolution as he ruts deep and then stills. Buried to the hilt in Hamilton's body. Biting at the join of neck and shoulder in order to stifle a damningly loud shout.

Hamilton catches his own lower lip between his teeth, squeezes his eyes shut against the torrent of pleasure threatening to upend him. _He promised_. It doesn't matter how good Washington's bulk feels on top of him, or how perfect the sting of teeth at his shoulder. He will wear a dark bruise there tomorrow. A flawless imprint of his general's teeth, perfect complement to the darkening patterns at his hips that match Washington's powerful hands.

Alexander clenches his jaw and allows awareness of _all these things_ to course through him. Miraculously—impossibly—he manages to hold his ground.

He bites back an undignified sound when Washington's softening cock withdraws. He is in agony, stubbornly reining back his own orgasm as Washington lets go and eases away. Hamilton barely has time to bemoan the loss of contact before he is grabbed and guided onto his back, more forcefully than necessary. The hint of roughness leaves him giddy and lightheaded.

He doesn't beg again. Words are a feat well beyond him now, and he's helpless to do anything but stare and tremble silently as Washington's gaze devours him with a familiar possessive glint.

"Incredible," Washington breathes when he finds Hamilton still straining and unspent.

A teasing hand barely touches him, warm fingers brushing lightly along the side of Hamilton's cock. A deliberate misery. Hamilton whimpers and closes his eyes. His teeth dig harder into his own lip, but the pain is good. Grounds him. He's made it too far to fail now.

"Are you all right, Alexander?" Washington eases down the bed, leans closer so that the question moves warm air over the head of Hamilton's cock.

Hamilton writhes, gasps aloud, twists his head to the side and clenches his eyes more tightly shut.

"My beautiful boy," Washington murmurs, and even without opening his eyes Hamilton knows what expression his general is wearing. He recognizes the intimate smile in the soft, smooth voice.

Another moment—an instant only—and Washington says, " _Now_ you may finish."

The words are all it takes. The delayed rush of orgasm courses hot and immediate in Alexander's blood, and he lets go of the bedclothes to press both hands over his mouth. Even muffled, his cry rings loudly in his ears, a fractured scream as release knocks him sideways. He comes with Washington's hands on his hips—nowhere near his cock—and Washington's eyes staring hard at this culmination of patient effort.

" _Fuck_ ," Hamilton groans when the world finally stops spinning. He blinks and finds his general has stretched out beside him. One hand rests palm-flat over Hamilton's stomach, thumb stroking back and forth as though heedless of the mess Alexander has made.

Hamilton turns his head to meet Washington's eyes and finds his general smiling.

"Just when I think I've discovered some mortal limit," Washington murmurs, "you turn around and surpass my wildest expectations."

Hamilton's chest glows hot with the praise, and his breath stutters. He opens his mouth, but for once he can think of nothing to say.

Washington seems to comprehend this difficulty, because he closes the space between them for a kiss. Slow and lingering and utterly satisfied. There is something almost sweet in the gentler nudge of Washington's tongue, the slower exploration as Hamilton presses into the kiss, meeting him halfway.

When they break apart Hamilton has discovered enough of his voice to whisper, "Thank you, sir."

Washington smiles more softly. "Always, my boy." And kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: [Close](https://dreamlittleyo.dreamwidth.org/103669.html)
> 
> I hang out **[over on Dreamwidth](https://dreamlittleyo.dreamwidth.org/)** if that is a place anyone still goes. In the rare instance I'm inspired to post things that aren't fic--or participate in wider fandom happenings--that's where you'll find me. :D


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